


Better Not Touch

by NoirSongbird



Series: Caught in Your Web [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Mei/Gabriel, F/M, Infidelity, and gets punched for it, disguises, in which jack morrison fucks up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9386153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: Jack knows that he shouldn't hit on the pretty stranger at the bar, not when he has Amélie back home - but he's drawn to her, in a way he can't explain.It's unfortunate for him that sheisAmélie, and Amélie is not particularly forgiving; still, Jack is determined to win her back and not let one stupid decision cost him the only woman he's ever really loved.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another commission by the same anon <3 I really enjoyed returning to this universe!

If you asked Jack, ever since Amélie had joined Overwatch about six months back, everything had been going  _ great. _

Having his soulmate at his side had brought a vigor he hadn’t known he could find - she integrated almost seamlessly into the team, and she’d made for an excellent covert operative, infiltrating and bringing back incredible buckets of information. Talon was on the run, and that was probably the best news Jack had on the command front since...well, since Talon had first  _ popped up.  _

Every time they took down another Talon facility or blew apart another op, it felt a little bit like revenge for all the years with his soulmate they’d stolen from him, and he felt a little prouder of his team.

Even if Winston was technically the boss, and Jack was just a “field commander”, it still felt like his team.

He was feeling younger, and more like  _ himself _ , were he being honest. He’d ditched the mask and leather jacket, and grown his hair out and dyed it back to blond - and had even cultivated a moustache for himself. The new look, in his opinion, was a little loud and a little attention-grabbing, but then, he hadn’t exactly been subtle back when he was Strike-Commander. 

Besides, it felt  _ good  _ to go back to being loud and attention-grabbing. He wasn’t Soldier: 76, nameless vigilante, anymore. He was  _ Jack Morrison,  _ Overwatch Commander, and the whole world deserve to know it.

He’d decided the best way to celebrate their latest successful mission was with a trip to a local bar, and there had been absolutely  _ enthusiastic  _ agreement, and there he was, with people he considered something of a family, watching Lucio chat up a cute server and Reinhardt boisterously order the largest size beer they had, because Reinhardt was never going to change. It had ended up something of a boy’s night out, with him, Lucio, Reinhardt, Gabriel, McCree, and the Shimada boys. Exactly the sort of party he had no doubt he was going to endlessly enjoy.

They’d been at the bar about half an hour, and he was about four beers in, when he spotted  _ her.  _ She was incredible, really - exactly the type of woman he would have been left breathless by before Amélie. Exactly the kind of woman he would have, pretty unquestionably,  _ hit on  _ before Amélie.

She sat on a barstool radiating an effortless sort of confidence, poised  _ just so  _ so that the lights caught her perfectly-curled auburn hair. She almost looked too good for a dive like the one she was in, a sophisticated slice of perfection in a slinky little black off-the-shoulder dress and jacket, and her lips were done perfectly in cherry red. For a brief moment, they made eye contact, and Jack swore his heart stopped. She raised an eyebrow, and she smiled, and... _ god. _

He looked away first, feeling a surge of guilt. He  _ had  _ someone, a pretty damn fantastic someone, and he didn’t need to get distracted by pretty girls in bars, so he turned back to his friends, taking a long drink of his beer. No need to let himself get distracted by a pretty girl when he was in a very happy relationship, and when he was out with friends he really needed more downtime with.

It was  _ good  _ to have the team all together, even if it was just a stupid guy’s night out after a successful mission. Their table was drawing stares, but then, it was hard  _ not  _ to, with a cyborg, an omnic, and...well, and Gabriel, who might’ve been with Overwatch, but who was still sort of a terrifying presence, if you didn’t know him and hadn’t seen him stumble over his words when Mei smiled at him. 

Jack felt stupid for not having realized what was between his best friend and Overwatch’s lead climatologist back in the day, but to miss it now he’d have to be blind. It had been Mei, after all, who had extended a hand to Gabriel and brought him back to Overwatch, and she’d revealed quietly after that the two of them were soulmates.

Gabriel being so angry got a hell of a lot more understandable, through that lens. Jack had no idea what he’d do if he thought Amélie was dead. 

Still, even with Amélie on his mind, the longer they were in the bar, the more Jack found his attention drifting to the red-haired woman on the barstool, and to the way she leaned against it, slowly nursing a drink, which put all of her absolutely gorgeous  _ everything  _ on display. It was ridiculous that some stranger could do this to him; the last woman who had caught his attention so quickly and so easily had been...well, had been Amélie.

“Y’know, Reinhardt,” Gabriel said, with a raised eyebrow, jerking Jack’s attention back to the people he was with. “I bet I could finally outdrink you.” 

It was something of a running thing - Jack and Gabe had both been trying for  _ years  _ to drink Reinhardt under the table, but it was something neither had ever been able to do, SEP metabolism or not. Normally between the two of them they could put  _ anyone  _ out, but not Reinhardt, who apparently had the alcohol tolerance of an entire small German village all on his own.

“If he cannot,” Genji said, leaning forward, “I am sure  _ I _ can.” There was a playful glint in the cyborg’s eye, but his brother didn’t seem to agree. Hanzo let out a long-suffering sigh, burying his face in his hands.

“What’s the matter, brother?” Genji asked, sounding utterly innocent. Jack knew him too well to buy it.

“I merely remember the  _ last  _ time I saw you in a drinking contest.” Hanzo replied.

“Ha!” Genji said. “It wasn’t  _ that _ bad.”

“It was that bad,” Hanzo said, firmly. “But please, enjoy yourself.”

“Jack?” Gabriel offered, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll pass, this time.” He said. “I’ve got too many memories of passing out in dive bars to try that again.”

“Suit yourself,” Gabriel shrugged, but he looked amused. Undoubtedly, he was thinking about a few choice occasions where Jack had gotten  _ particularly  _ sloshed trying to outdrink their mountain of a friend.

“If it takes a cyborg and a super soldier to defeat me,” Reinhardt said, “it will be a worthy defeat! Waitress! Three of your largest tankards, for my friends and I!”

The waitress laughed and nodded. She was, it seemed, enjoying serving their loud, boisterous group - it helped, he suspected, that she recognized some of them as Overwatch. Genji stood out, and so did McCree and Reinhardt, all of them recognizable from old events and recruitment posters. She’d even been excited to meet him and Gabe, all lit up and delighted. It was a reminder that no matter what Overwatch did, and no matter what the politicians said, there would always be people who admired them for what they were.  _ Heroes. _

She came back with the drinks, and Jack found his attention drawn back to the woman. She had pulled out a cigarette, and said something - a request for a light, maybe, he couldn’t quite hear - and as soon as she did, about six different lighters appeared, all offered in her direction by slavering men.

And yet, her eyes were still on him.

He had to admit, it felt good, to have a hot young stranger blatantly eyeing him up. It wasn’t like there was a lack of handsome men around, and yet he was  _ it. _

He looked back, and Genji was staring contemplatively at the ridiculously oversized tankard - close to the size of his head, which seemed even to Jack like entirely too much beer for someone not Reinhardt Wilhelm - sat down in front of him. 

“Satya’s going to kill me,” he mused, idly, “and then Angela is going to bring me back and kill me again.”

“Angela’s gonna murder both of us,” Gabriel agreed cheerily, “but it’ll be worth it.”

“Nonsense, Angela is eminently reasonable,” Reinhardt said, and he raised his tankard, and Genji and Gabriel raised theirs. Lucio slid back into his seat, muttering  _ “I gotta see this,” _ and McCree leaned forward, tilting his ever-present hat back. Even Hanzo seemed totally focused on the little competition, whatever jabs he had made at his brother’s prior habits.

It was easy to be entertained, too, because the three of them were loud and boisterous and obviously having a good time. 

This was why Jack had brought his team out for drinks - this camaraderie, the feeling of friendship that he was, were he being honest, still getting used to, even so long into being back with Overwatch.

So why couldn’t he focus on that? Why was his attention continually drawn to the beautiful stranger at the bar? 

Why couldn’t thoughts of Amélie discourage his…interest? He had a  _ soulmate,  _ and he shouldn’t be checking out some other woman, not when she was right there back at the Watchpoint waiting for him to get home. He would just...forget this other woman was there, and go home to Amé and pretend this never happened.

At least, that was what he  _ wanted  _ to do.

The problem was, he couldn’t stop glancing over, couldn’t stop wondering...couldn’t stop looking her way and. Well. Wanting to at least  _ talk  _ to her. He didn’t see it going any further than that, because he pictured Amélie and couldn’t imagine…cheating on her, sleeping with some other woman, but.

It had been a long time since he’d so much as thought about another woman. What Amélie didn’t know certainly wouldn’t hurt her, and there was no way she could possibly find out if he flirted with some woman in some bar. 

So, once he was sure everyone was well and distracted - and well on their way to being drunk, because even the ones not participating in the drinking contest were being served rather a lot. He didn’t exactly want one of them  _ telling  _ Amé that he’d been flirting around, and he was sure some of them knew her and liked her well enough to let her know that her soulmate had been flirting around with other women.

It would probably have been fair, if someone  _ did  _ tell her, but he wanted to avoid that, really. No sense having her get upset over something that wouldn’t matter at all.

He stood up from the table with the excuse of intending to order something from the bar, and then he slipped across the way, over to  _ her. _

As soon as she sat down next to her, she graced him with a smile.

“What’s a gorgeous woman like you doing in a place like this?” He asked, tone playful and light. She gave him a smile and a wink.

“The same thing you are, I imagine.” She said, blatantly flirtatious. He raised his eyebrows.

“Getting a drink with some friends?” He pretended to cast a glance around, but he  _ knew  _ she was alone because he’d been paying attention. 

“Ha,” she laughed, briefly, “perhaps not for the  _ same  _ reason then.” 

“Well, we can always figure out another reason,” Jack said, grinning. She laughed, and it was...almost magical, like something he’d only heard in his fondest dreams.

“You are a charmer,”  she said lightly, and then she waved to the bartender, who brought her a brandy, neat. Amélie’s favorite drink; Jack recognized it instantly.

_ Amélie. _ Right. The reason he really should not be listening to his dick and flirting with this woman. 

And yet he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said lightly. She regarded him for a long moment, sipping her drink, and he wished, suddenly, for one of his own. He knew he was more than a little buzzed, were he being honest, and that it was probably part of the reason he was so willing to pursue this abject foolishness.

Amélie would be furious if she ever found out, he was sure, because he knew he found himself grinding his teeth and considering murder every time he had to watch her, in disguise, flirting with some target for information, and that was  _ work.  _ This was  _ off hours,  _ this was him picking up a woman just because he  _ could. _

Stupid, he knew, but surely he could just have a flirty conversation without it needing to be anything more than that. He’d done it all the time, back when he was Strike-Commander Morrison; it had been easier then, of course, because quite a lot of women were all too happy to fall into bed with the head of Overwatch.

Now, all he had was his own rugged charm, and with Amélie, that was all he needed. As best he could tell, he was doing pretty good with this woman too.

“You are... _ fascinating, _ ” she admitted, leaning forward. “So many others stare, and that is all they do, but here you are, willing to speak to me.”

“Yeah, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Jack said lightly. “You can’t ever get what you want if you let yourself get intimidated out of even trying.”

“A good life philosophy,” she said, sounding amused. “ _ Is  _ it a life philosophy? Or just your philosophy for dealing with women?” 

“Oh, it’s a life philosophy.” Jack said, grinning. “I’ve been a soldier my whole life - you don’t get far doing  _ that  _ by being timid either.” 

“Is that so,” she said. “That sounds like a...terribly rough life.” She leaned into his space almost casually, eyes trailing over his face and lingering on his scars in a way that was, in Jack’s opinion, pretty damn appreciative.

She liked the way he looked. She looked at him and saw someone  _ desirable. _

It was like a drug, to feel that. This wasn’t Amélie, this wasn’t a woman drawn to him by an irrevocable bond. This was a woman in a bar who looked at Jack Morrison, in his fifties and with a moustache that had been described by  _ Jesse McCree  _ (as if he had any room to talk) as  _ tacky,  _ and she appeared, as best he could tell, to be thinking “I want that.”

Holy  _ fuck.  _

“Yeah, well,” Jack said, all confidence, “bones heal, pain is temporary, and scars look good.” If he had to take a guess, he’d figure she thought so too, by the way she was looking him over.

“That they do,” she murmured, a playful little grin on her face. 

He glanced back at his friends, to make sure they were still absorbed in their little drinking contest - Gabriel was still going strong, and so, of course, was Reinhardt, but Genji looked more than a little wobbly. He might have to get in there and do something about that, at some point, just to make sure the poor kid could walk out under his own power. 

“Are you worried about your friends?” She asked, tilting her head briefly to the side.

“A little,” he admitted dryly. “Not so much that I’m eager to run out on you, though,” and he gave her a long, slow smile, and she laughed brightly. 

“You are sweet,” she tapped his arm. “Go back to your friends, they will begin to miss you.” 

“Wait,” he said, a little impulsively. “Before I go, can I get your number?” She raised her eyebrows briefly, but she slid a hand, briefly, into his, and he felt a momentary flare of electricity. When she withdrew, there was a piece of paper left behind, with a number on it and a little, doodled heart.

He hadn’t even noticed her writing it down, and he hadn't intended to ask, not really, but, hell. He’d take it. It made him feel young and hot and powerful again, even if she  _ was  _ sending him back to the boys.

Besides, they probably did need a slightly more sober babysitter, to make sure everybody got home in one piece. He could do that.

 

* * *

 

The number weighed in his pocket the entire way back to the Watchpoint. He’d stuffed it there on his walk back to the table, and as best he could tell, no one really noticed he’d been gone overly long. Certainly no one  _ commented on it,  _ at least, and that was good enough for him. He was sure they were all too drunk to hold back, and so he took the lack of commentary as confirmation he’d managed to slip by without being noticed. 

Still,  _ he  _ knew what he’d done - he’d taken a woman’s number, in a bar, and he’d kept it. He could’ve thrown it away at any point between getting it and getting back to the Watchpoint, and he hadn’t, because he was, frankly, an  _ idiot,  _ and standing around in the room he shared with  _ his soulmate  _ and staring at both the number and his comm wasn’t going to make that better.

He couldn’t  _ stop  _ thinking about it, though, and that was the worst part. He couldn’t stop remembering her smile, her laugh, her...everything. God, she’d been  _ gorgeous,  _ and he’d been attracted to her in a way he hadn’t been attracted to  _ anyone  _ since he met Amélie.

This was ridiculous. What the hell did he think he was going to do, conduct some covert affair with a woman he’d hit on in a bar? That was  _ monumentally  _ stupid. Where would he even find the time, between running overwatch and his  _ actual, presumably committed relationship? _

And yet.

He ground his teeth together, struggling against the impulse to dial the number he’d been given. Just to see if she’d pick up. Just to see if maybe she was thinking as much about him as he was about her.

It didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t have to  _ be  _ anything. He could make a phone call without it meaning that he meant to slip off and sleep with this woman. Surely, he could do that. 

He dialed the number.

What he was  _ not  _ expecting was for the communicator that rung in response to be the one on the other side of the bed.

He was also not expecting the door to open and Amélie to walk in.

She looked from her ringing communicator back to him, and then her eyes narrowed. 

Jack froze, a surge of guilt running through him, and he was too stunned to do anything when she walked over and slammed her fist into his face so hard it knocked him to the ground. Her heel came down on his chest, and she snarled.

“You  _ pig, _ ” she snapped, “you absolute  _ pig!”  _

He felt like it, too. She wasn’t wrong - he’d called another woman, and it was only by chance that woman turned out to be  _ her. _

He should have realized. Ther reason he felt so connected, the reason she felt so familiar - it was because it was  _ Amélie,  _ in disguise, and he’d been too stupid to recognize her. Their soulmate bond had pulled at him even through her disguise and even through him being a blind, drunk idiot. 

_ He should have realized,  _ and now here he was, with her staring down at him like she wanted him as dead as any of her assassination targets.

“I’m sorry, I-” Jack started, and she cut him off with a string of words in French that he well and knew were  _ deeply  _ unkind.

“You are  _ sorry? _ What did you imagine would happen, if you connected with that woman in the bar?” She asked. She didn’t give him a chance to respond, though, plowing forward in her absolute fury. “You -- I was there to do  _ reconnaissance,  _ we suspect that bar might be a Talon dead drop location, and in  _ you  _ and your  _ fool friends  _ waltz, happy to get drunk, and  _ you,  _ apparently, are all too happy to pick up  _ women,  _ you  _ unfaithful fils de pute.”  _

She shook her head sharply, turning around and storming for the door. 

“Amélie, wait!” He sat up, reaching after her, like he could stop her somehow.

“Do not speak to me,” she said sharply, “do not even  _ look  _ at me. I will collect my things tomorrow. Do not stop me.”

She stormed out the door, slammed it behind her, and Jack was left alone.

 

* * *

 

Jack had never felt so humiliated in his  _ life.  _ It wasn’t that he didn’t think he deserved it - he was pretty sure he did - it was just…

_ Hell.  _ It was humiliating, no other word for it, and the fact that he felt terribly guilty about the whole thing just heaped on the humiliation. 

Amélie had made good on her promise to move out of their rooms the next day, and her things had disappeared without him even seeing her take them. He felt a stab of pain when he realized it - when he opened the closet and found all her things gone, and checked the bathroom to find it equally barren and empty.

He hadn’t realized how thoroughly integrated into his life she was until suddenly she was  _ gone,  _ with little warning but with plenty of reason. He’d screwed up, and everyone knew it. Amélie wasn’t private about her disdain - she refused to so much as sit near him at meals, and she  _ certainly  _ wasn’t talking to him. He knew, because he’d tried to catch her, to beg her to forgive him, to plead for another chance, and she brushed him off every time.

She’d expressed her disdain with her fist a second time, too, and he wasn’t eager to go for three on that.

The worst part, besides Amélie being gone, were the  _ looks.  _ Hana kept staring at him like he was a piece of unfortunate garbage she’d found on her shoe, and that  _ stung,  _ because she used to respect him. She’d even come around to liking Amélie, which he guessed was probably the reason she was giving him such disgusted looks now. She wasn’t the only one, either. Most of the team was looking at him in a new and very unpleasant way, and he absolutely did not like it. 

Ana was, possibly, the worst - she just shook her head and said “I thought better of you, Jack.” The rest, the  _ “clearly I was wrong, _ ” went unsaid, but he didn’t need to hear it. Nobody conveyed perfect disapproval with a single look the way Ana Amari did.  _ Damn. _

Angela, at least, always had his back. She was good that way - not afraid to tell him he’d been stupid, but not bitterly shunning him, either. She was always there for him, which was good because he sure as hell needed a lot of comfort and support.

It came to a head on the next mission Jack and Amélie were assigned on together - Winston’s idea, not his, and  _ certainly  _ not hers. They had to communicate in order to be an effective unit, and he was glad that she wasn’t  _ that  _ petty, because she was being a thousand other kinds of it.

“I require healing,” she said, from her perch, and  _ god,  _ well, maybe that would be a good way to get in close contact with her and have a conversation.

“Biotic field on its -” Jack began.

“ _ Not  _ from you,” Amélie snapped, and he stopped.

“I am on my way,” Angela said, and her wings opened and she soared up, starting the Caudecus stream.

“Thank you,” Amélie said, short and clipped. 

Jack wasn’t sure why that, in particular, stung so badly. It was just so…. _ ridiculous.  _ To not speak to him or want to be around him, fine, but to refuse  _ medical aid  _ because it was coming from  _ him?  _

Surely that was a little much.

“I can’t believe you’re still walking,” Gabriel said, from his position on Jack’s left. “I’d have expected her to shoot you, as pissed as she is.”

“Thanks for that,” Jack grumbled. Still, that was...something, he supposed. Gabriel was right, Amélie wasn’t afraid to deal with her problems with violence. Maybe it  _ was  _ a good sign that she’d decided to hold off murdering him.

Ha. That was a hell of a thing, when the closest to an upside he could manage was “she hasn’t put a bullet in my medulla oblongatta.”

Still, she hadn’t, and surely that was  _ something.  _ He could make that something. He could hope for that to be something. 

They’d almost cleared off the little group of Deadlock Rebels trying to steal a very nasty bomb - Jesse and Gabriel had rather a lot of invaluable intel, even years after their involvement with the gang. Apparently Jesse knew the new leader, and Gabriel had dealt with him on some mercenary work contracts as Reaper.

He and his men had been very surprised to see the two of them on Overwatch’s side, Jack knew that much.

He adjusted the streamlined version of his tactical visor Winston had developed, considering the odds. There weren’t many left; his autotargeting should finish it.

“My tactical visor’s ready - Widowmaker?” He asked. He was used to them combining abilities - her Infra-Sight would make for an invaluable secondary tool to root out anyone that might have tucked themselves into hiding. 

“No, I am sure you can handle this yourself,” she said blandly, and he had to stare up at her perch for a long moment in pure shock. Surely she wouldn’t refuse to do  _ this? _

Except she very much had.

Well, fine, if that was how she was going to be - childish and vindictive, which was what this was, really,  _ childish  _ \- he could do this himself.

“Tactical visor activated,” he said, and then he brought up his rifle and began shooting as it picked out targets. Deadlock members went down one by one, and even if she refused to give him her Infra-Sight, Jack knew he was still doing a good cleanup job. The rest of the team flushed out anyone else - this time  _ with  _ Amélie’s help, because apparently she was happy to give her aid to everyone  _ else,  _ but not, right then, to  _ him  _ \- and they were left with one secured payload and quite a lot fewer Deadlock members. Jesse reported the leader wasn’t among them, but that was fine. They’d get  _ that  _ bastard another day, surely. They always got their man, because they were  _ Overwatch  _ and that was what they  _ did. _

Amélie sat as far from him as was possible on the transport home, and  _ that,  _ he was getting used to, but really, this had to stop. Her refusal to help him could have cost them the mission, and that was something he absolutely could not allow. 

So, fine. There was only one thing to do to make sure this didn’t happen again.

He was going to  _ win her back. _

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t going to be easy, and he knew that, and he’d...well, he’d never really been one for big romantic gestures, but he wanted to come up with  _ something  _ that would show her how much she meant to him. Anything at all, to even begin to display the amount of affection he held for his soulmate.

Still, it wasn’t something that came naturally to him, so he sought out some advice. Genji, he knew, had been something of a playboy in his youth - he’d settled, since, and Jack was fairly certain he and Satya were happy, but still, if anyone likely had firsthand experience with this exact problem, it would be Genji Shimada.

He caught the cyborg leaving meditation with his omnic teacher, who was definitely the last person Jack wanted to see because Zenyatta wouldn’t  _ judge _ him _ ,  _ he’d be  _ nice  _ about it, which was somehow a hundred times worse. He wasn’t exactly eager to admit to someone so willing to be something approaching nice to him that there was no deeper reason he’d gotten himself into this; he’d been stupid and horny and he was suffering for it.

“Can I get a moment, Shimada?” He asked.

“Of course,” Genji said, giving him a brief nod. Jack brought him out of the hallway, just to keep from being overheard. “What can I do for you, Commander?”

“I was wondering if...you had any advice,” Jack began, and Genji nodded to encourage him to continue, “about. My problem with Amélie.”

“About being caught by one woman with another, you mean?” Genji asked, and he sounded distinctly amused.

“Technically there wasn’t  _ actually  _ another woman,” Jack grumbled.

“But you didn’t know that,” Genji said. Jack got the distinct feeling he was being teased, which he could, in fact, endure. He just didn’t particularly  _ want to.  _

“I know,” Jack acknowledged, “and I know she’s right to be angry with me - I screwed up. I screwed up  _ badly.  _ I know that, but I still love her. I don’t need her to forgive me right away, you know? But I want to get her to talk to me, so she’ll give me a  _ chance.” _

Something about him must have conveyed his sincerity, because Genji sighed and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I believe you are sincere,” he said, but when he continued, Jack could almost  _ hear  _ the grin in his voice. “Well! Generally, the way back in is with flattery - I imagine you’re asking me because you’d guessed I had...been there, as it were.”

“Yes,” Jack said. “So?”

“She won’t talk to you, correct? We’ve all seen  _ that,”  _ Genji said. “So try a simple gesture. Flowers and a card - something nice. Something expensive.  _ Impress  _ her. She might even bend a little.” He patted Jack’s shoulder. “Good luck. Things go much smoother when the two of you are happy.”

That was encouraging, he supposed. 

He really did want to go all out, because it was for  _ Amélie,  _ and he wanted her back far more than he’d expected to. She was...special, important, wonderful. She deserved the best, and he was going to get her the best to convince her to come back to him. So he took a few days to find the most expensive flowers he could order from the best flower shop he could find in Gibraltar, two dozen perfectly cut red roses, with a simple personalized message -  _ “Please forgive me. - Jack” _

He couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t just throw them away, but it was worth trying. 

He left them outside the door to the new room she’d chosen, on the other side of the base dormitories from him. Another reminder that she wanted nothing to do with him after what he’d done. Or almost done. Or thought very hard about doing.

The next morning, she showed up at breakfast with an armful of flowers, and he thought for a moment he might have actually managed a step in the right direction, or at least a step in the direction of getting her to  _ acknowledge him  _ again. 

Then, he saw her stormy expression, and she dropped the flowers in his lap, a sneer on her face.

“Disgusting,” she said, “that you could think you would win me back with  _ that. _ ” 

Well, alright. One attempt down. But he was determined - he would get her back, 

 

* * *

 

He tried McCree next - not because he expected Jesse had any great breadth of experience, but because Jesse was effortlessly charming. No one could stay mad at Jesse McCree for long, even when he was at his most arrogant asshole.

“You could try chocolates,” McCree said, “if all you’re tryin’ to do is get the door open.”

“She could also throw them at you, like the flowers,” Gabriel commented, from where he’d taken a seat on the rec room couch with a coffee and a newspaper. It was just the three of them - had been just Jack and Jesse, until Gabe walked in, because Jack was a  _ little  _ tired of having his personal business paraded in front of the entire Watchpoint like some kind of terrible soap opera. Which seemed to be how everyone was treating it. He felt like he should be selling tickets.

“Thanks, Gabe,” Jack said dryly, “you’re a helper.”

“Somebody’s gotta keep you humble,” Gabriel replied, “but McCree’s not wrong, chocolate might be the way in. She had a hell of a sweet tooth when she was with Talon.”

Jack felt a flare of jealousy -  _ how the hell did Gabriel know that -  _ but he pushed it down. They’d worked together, a  _ lot.  _ Before Jack had even laid eyes on Widowmaker. Besides, that was Gabriel trying to be as helpful as possible, offering a solution even. So, fine. That was fine.

“See? I know what I’m talkin’ about,” McCree said, looking a little smug. “Women love chocolate, an’ for  _ some reason  _ Amélie loves you; combine the two an’ I’m sure she won’t be able to resist.” 

“I’m so glad I have such supportive friends,” Jack said, heavy on the sarcasm. Gabriel waved him off.

“Go buy chocolates for your girlfriend before she becomes your  _ ex- _ girlfriend.” He said, and then he went back to his paper.

It was good advice, whoever it came from, and so Jack went into Gibraltar and found a confectionary shop, selecting the best chocolates he could find and having them put into a fine, fancy box. This, he hoped, would work where everything else had failed; surely Amélie wouldn’t be able to resist  _ fine handmade chocolate.  _ No one could resist fine handmade chocolate. And surely that would be enough, at least, to let him talk to her. He knew that flowers and chocolates weren't going to even begin to make up for what he’d done, but maybe they would, at least, convince her that he  _ was  _ sorry and they could  _ talk about this. _

That was all he wanted - a chance to really  _ talk  _ about it. 

So he arrived back at the Watchpoint and waited until he was certain she was in her room - there was no way he was doing this in public, not when it would put both her and him on the spot. He wanted her  _ back,  _ not more furious because he’d made her uncomfortable with a public display.

Also, if this  _ did  _ go wrong, her wanted it to go wrong privately.

So he went to her door, and he knocked, and she opened it, and took one look at him and nearly shut it again.

“Amélie, wait,” Jack said, and he held up the box. “I just...I got you these.” 

She opened the door again, and regarded the box of chocolates, and him, for a very, very long moment. It was a very  _ tense  _ moment, too, because he wasn’t sure if she was thinking about accepting his apology or about terminating him with extreme prejudice. Her expression could have gone either way.

“Hm,” she said, and then she reached out and took the box, and for a brief moment he felt a sense of relief. Maybe this would be it; maybe this would be the way he finally worked his way back in the general direction of her good graces. 

Then, she smiled in a way that was not at all pleasant.

“Even if they’re from a cheating dog like you, it would be a shame to let these go to waste.” 

She slammed the door in his face, and he was left staring at it dumbly, feeling worse and worse every moment.

 

* * *

 

Two tries, both of them complete blowups in his face. Neither, apparently, had gotten him any closer to actually successfully winning her over, which was the frustrating part.

She was still avoiding him, and now, somehow, it was  _ worse.  _ Before, they’d at least gone out on  _ a  _ mission together, but now, when she saw her name and his on a roster, he watched her storm up to Winston’s lab and, if the look on his face when he swapped it out and put Hanzo in as their sniper later indicated anything about the conversation, she’d probably torn into him as hard as she’d torn into Jack that first night.

Before, she’d at least be in the same room as him - now, if he walked in, she walked  _ out,  _ or if she saw him, she turned around and went somewhere else. Somehow, his attempts to make things better had, in several terrible ways, actually made things  _ worse. _

He was beginning to despair of ever successfully winning her back - because apparently, there were things that even a soulmate bond couldn’t survive, and nearly cheating on someone was one of those things. 

He had taken to sulking around late at night, and that was how Hana found him, slouched on a couch in the rec room at three in the morning flipping through channels to try to find  _ something _ that wouldn’t piss him off or make the persistent, bitter ache in his chest worse. 

“Wow, Dad,” Hana said, “you look like  _ shit.” _

“Tell us how you really feel,” Jack said gruffly. 

“No, really, this is like.  _ Sad.”  _

“Thanks,” Jack grumbled.

“I mean, wow. You screwed up, but this is just miserable. And Amélie says you keep trying to apologize, so I guess that counts for something.” Hana said. “Not with her, apparently, but like, with me.”

“You talk to Amélie?” He asked. He hadn’t realized they’d gotten close. 

“Well, yeah.” Hana shrugged. “Look. Let me help you.” She gestured a little with one hand while she talked, a broad sweep to indicate exactly how generous she felt she was being. “You cook, right? Last time you did dinner duty it was pretty good, if I remember right. So like. Cook for her. Do a nice romantic meal. Set up on one of the pretty spots overlooking the ocean. Bring fancy champagne. I’ll get her out there, maybe get Satya to help, and just...get her to sit down. Tell her how sorry you are. If she sees you looking  _ half _ this pathetic, I’m sure she’ll give you a chance.”

“You’d do that?” Jack asked. Sure, Genji, Gabe, and Jesse had all offered  _ advice,  _ but here was Hana  _ actively offering to conspire with him _ \- to rope someone else in, even, and that was...pretty above and beyond.

“Sure,” Hana said, “you two are cute, and the drama was fun for a while but...really, it’s not anymore.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” Jack sighed, and then he pushed himself off the couch to start looking through what they had in the fridge. Might as well start planning what he was going to do for her now.

 

* * *

 

It was, if you asked Jack, a pretty nice setup. He’d gone into town to get fine wine that was a brand he knew Amélie liked; he’d cooked food he knew she enjoyed; the entire thing was for  _ her,  _ and he was rather hopeful that would be enough to win her back over.

Or, you know, get her to sit down and talk to him, which was plenty, really. 

He waited, until he heard the click of her heels on the rock, and she stepped around into the little space he’d made.

“Satya? Hana? I-” She looked around, briefly, for anyone else, but as soon as she spotted Jack, her expression darkened. “Ah.” She said, shortly. “I see what this is.” She turned to go, but he jumped up and caught her arm, a gentle hold that he knew she could pull out of with no trouble. 

“Amélie,  _ please.  _ Sit down and talk to me, that’s all I’m asking. I know you’re angry. I know I hurt you. But please, just...give me another chance.”

“Another  _ chance?” _ Amélie sneered. “Another chance? So you can sleep with  _ more  _ other women?” She shook her head firmly.  _ “Non.”  _

“There aren’t any other women,” Jack said, a little desperately.

“Ha,” Amélie said. “With how much confidence you approached a stranger in a bar, I doubt  _ that  _ very strongly. There have always been other women, haven’t there? I should have  _ known,  _ I am sure you and the doctor--”

“Me and  _ Angela?” _ That was new, and absolutely not what he’d suspected.

“Yes, you and  _ Angela,”  _ she spat the name darkly. “The two of you must make such a pleasantly happy couple. I am not  _ blind,  _ I merely cannot believe I did not see the signs before.”

“Amé, I’m not sleeping with Angela, I’ve never -  _ God,”  _ Jack said. She jerked out of his grip, as easily as he knew she could.

“ _ Leave. Me. Alone.”  _ She jabbed an accusing finger into his chest. “You are a  _ pig,  _ and I cannot believe I tolerated you for so long.  _ Soulmates,  _ pah. Obviously that means nothing to you.”

She stormed off again, leaving him feeling terribly, agonizingly alone.

 

* * *

 

This was, in Jack’s opinion, completely and utterly over the top. He could handle the rejection - he  _ could,  _ it  _ stung,  _ but he could  _ deal with it,  _ he was an  _ adult  _ and he had, in fact, made a fairly large mistake.

The problem was the  _ not talking.  _ The refusal to coordinate on missions, which could have gone very,  _ very  _ badly. The refusal to  _ acknowledge  _ him, the --  _ all of it.  _ It was so monumentally, ridiculously unfair, and he knew -  _ knew  _ \- that she was so much better than that. That when they were together,  _ they  _ were so much better than that.

So, fine, he was going to deal with this, because one of them ought to. At least if  _ someone  _ bridged the gap and decided to talk like an adult instead of behaving like a child, they could maybe...he didn’t know.

They were soulmates. Wasn’t that supposed to make it easier? Wasn’t there supposed to be an unbreakable magic that bound them together?

(Thinking that was was probably what had gotten him in so much trouble in the first place.)

He went to her door and knocked, and there was silence for a long moment, and he began to wonder if she was even in her room at all. She could, after all, have been anywhere on the base, really; it was stupid to assume, and he should have tried other places first. 

“Come in,” Amélie said from inside, and he let out a relieved breath. No need to go running around looking for her, then, that was easier. He pushed the door open, and there she was, dressed casually - an elegant white blouse and black pencil skirt, her version of casual - and damn it, even if he  _ was  _ frustrated with her, she still took his breath away, just like she had when they’d first met; just like she had when she’d first arrived as a member of Overwatch. They hadn’t been this close in  _ weeks,  _ and part of him wanted to run forward and kiss her and beg her to forgive him, but he knew that wasn’t going to work, because he’d been  _ trying  _ that.

It registered, then, that she had a bag on the bed and she was stuffing things into it, and something painful hitched in his chest.

“Amélie...what are you doing?” He asked, slowly. She whipped around, and seemed only then to realize that it was him, and she frowned deeply.

“Get out,” she said, “I have no desire to speak with you.”

“I’m not leaving,” Jack said, voice sharp, “until we actually  _ talk.” _

“There is nothing to discuss,” Amélie said, waving him off.

“Can we at least talk about why you’re  _ packing?” _ Jack asked. “I didn’t know you had a mission assigned.” He would have known, surely; Winston generally ran rosters by him, even if he wasn’t technically in command.

“I do not,” Amélie said. She huffed, and shut her bag, briefly. “I am  _ leaving,  _ Jack.”

“What?” He knew it had to sound ridiculously stupid, but he was... bowled over. Of all the things he’d considered, her leaving was not one of them. Sure, they were on the outs, but surely she’d formed enough bonds with the rest of the team to not want to  _ leave  _ because of it…

“I am  _ leaving. _ ” She said. “I am not sure what about that was so unclear.”

“Where are you going?” He asked, still not sure he was entirely processing this.  _ Leaving.  _ She was...she was  _ leaving. _

“I am not sure. Back, perhaps. To become an independant contractor, perhaps.” She shrugged her shoulders, as if - as if it  _ didn’t matter.  _

“But...you can’t,” he said, intelligently, and then his brain caught up with the rest of him. “Athena, lock this door.” 

“Of course, Strike-Commander.” The AI was still programmed to respond to him as if he  _ were  _ the boss, and right then, he rather liked that. “I will also give the two of you some privacy.” There was a  _ click  _ as the electronic lock engaged, and Amélie huffed.

“Is this not a  _ little  _ ridiculous?” She asked. “I thought I had made my feelings - or lack thereof - regarding you very clear.”

“No. You haven’t. You’ve avoided me, refused to speak to me, and brushed aside every attempt I’ve made at reconciliation, but you really haven’t actually  _ said _ much. So we’re going to  _ talk,  _ and if when we’re done you still want to leave, I’ll let you walk out this door and off this base.” Jack said. “But I’m not letting you go without a fight.” 

“What right do you imagine you have?” Amélie asked, sharply. “You are the one who was all too eager to  _ pick up  _ a woman in a bar, without knowing who she was, without taking even a  _ moment  _ to consider - what if it had  _ not  _ been me?” She pushed her way into his space, and Jack let her, hands raised slightly defensively. 

“I…” That was the rub, wasn’t it? Nothing had happened, but only because it turned out he’d gotten  _ Amélie’s  _ number, without knowing it. If it hadn’t been her…

He’d thought about it, a lot, were he being honest, because he knew she would ask, and he knew he would have to have a very,  _ very  _ good answer for her. She deserved that, if nothing else. 

“I couldn’t have gone through with anything,” Jack said. “I know that probably seems like an empty promise to you, but Amélie, I swear, I never would have.”

“You  _ called, _ ” she said, bitterly. “You called a woman you flirted with in a bar. What did you imagine was going to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Jack admitted. “It was stupid.  _ I  _ was stupid. I don’t know what I thought I was going to do, because I wasn’t thinking. Well,” he said, bitterly, “I was, but not with the right head.” 

Amélie did not seem to find that funny.

“I am glad you can find amusement in this,” she said, turning away from him. He winced. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s...not funny. At all.” He’d been stupid to even  _ try  _ for a joke. “Just… Amélie, I’d never done anything like that before. I think I forgot other women  _ existed  _ after I met you. I know saying ‘it was just once’ doesn’t make it  _ better, _ because it still happened, but I want you to know that you mean everything to me.” He exhaled, between gritted teeth. “Even if we’re over, just… stay with Overwatch, please. I know it won’t be easy, being around me, but I want you to be safe, and the team’s gotten used to working with you. So just… whatever else you do, don’t go.”

“How can I  _ trust you?” _ Amélie asked, and there was something strange in her voice, a waver he didn’t recognize. “You can say it only happened once, but how can I  _ know?” _ She let out a tiny, stifled sob.

Oh.

_ Oh, no. _

“Amé,” Jack took a step forward, and placed a hand on her shoulder and she turned to face him, and - yes. She was crying. He’d been angry, and frustrated, when he first came in, tired of dancing around the subject; he’d wanted to just  _ talk to her  _ and deal with all the hurt. All of his frustration melted away, though, seeing her upset. He reached out to pull her into an embrace, and she went, resting her head on his shoulder and sobbing. 

“When you first started flirting with me, at that bar,” Amélie said, “I did not know what to think - I thought maybe you knew, that even with all the disguise you recognized me somehow.” He let her talk, stroking her hair and holding her close. “When I realized you did not, that you were… flirting with a  _ stranger,  _ as best as you could tell, I - I was so  _ angry, _ ” she admitted, “but I thought that surely it would end when you left the bar.” He winced, guiltily. It should have. It absolutely should have. “And then you  _ called, _ and I was so  _ furious.”  _ Still, she pressed closer to him. “I began to doubt.  _ So much. _ ”

“God, Amé,” Jack said, “I owe you so much more than an apology, but I’m sorry. I really am.” As if that even began to cover it. “There’s nobody else in the world for me but you, Amélie. Never has been, never will be.”

“How am I to believe that?” She asked. “You can say it all you want, can insist and assure, but - I do not know.”

“I broke your trust,” Jack acknowledged. “I screwed up. Badly. But...Amélie, please. Give me another chance.”

“You are a fool,” Amélie said.

“I am. I was stupid,” Jack admitted. “I acted like a dumb, horny kid, and I could have lost you.” 

“You could have,” Amélie agreed, sniffling. Jack moved a hand from her hair to under her chin, tilting her face up towards his. Even crying, she looked beautiful - Jack was convinced there wasn’t anything she could do that would make her look less than perfect. “But you were not the only fool,” she admitted, very quietly. “I… did not want to admit it, but I am at fault too. I… played along, at first because I thought you knew it was me. I should have… I could have said something, when I realized you did not. But I let it continue, and that was… not fair to you.”

“I…” Jack hadn’t expected her to admit any kind of fault; truth be told he hadn’t considered that she might  _ have  _ any, but he wasn’t going to latch onto that and get angry at her. Not when she was being so honest, and not when they were so close to  _ something.  _ To another chance. To fixing this rift between them, finally, and that was all he’d wanted. “I’m not mad, not about that.” He exhaled. “We both screwed up. I was too drunk to realize the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about some woman I’d never laid eyes on before was because she was  _ you. _ ”

“Perhaps,” Amélie said, “but I have been unfair to you, this entire time.” She wrung her hands, a little.

“You were angry. I hurt you.” He’d realized  _ that  _ pretty thoroughly, and by now, he was over how frustrated he’d been with her behavior. All he wanted was for this terrible fight to be  _ over.  _  “Is there any chance you’ll forgive me?” He asked. Amélie huffed, and threw her arms around his shoulders, leaning up to kiss him. 

God, he’d known he missed her, but it had become a dull, background ache, something he just sort of  _ lived with  _ because there was nothing else he could do. Now, here it was, a stark reminder of exactly what he was missing, and Jack devoured her kiss eagerly. She groaned, pressing against him, and if he had to take a guess, he figured she had missed him just as much as he had missed her.

“Promise me,” she said, when they broke for a moment, “that it will never happen again.”

“Never again,” Jack promised. “I’m not gonna lose you.” There was no way in hell. Amélie was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

“Good,” Amélie said, “because next time, I’ll kill you myself.”

It probably should have alarmed him that he found that threat sort of hot.

She dragged him back in for another kiss, and he groaned, hands travelling down to her waist. He’d definitely missed this - the feel of that perfect body pressed against his, getting to trace every graceful curve while their tongues twined and she moaned against his lips. She stumbled a few steps backwards, blindly shoving her half-packed bag off the bed with no care for whatever was in it. She pulled away, falling back onto the bed, and with an easy - practiced, probably - flick of the ankle, her heels were kicked off, clattering to the floor. He followed her cue, stepping out of his boots and kicking them into a corner, so they’d be well and out of the way.

“I have missed you, Jack Morrison,” she said, reaching up and grabbing his jacket in her fists. “God only knows why, I even missed that idiotic moustache of yours.”

“I think the moustache looks dashing,” Jack said, without a trace of defensiveness. It  _ did,  _ if you asked him. She laughed, and shook her head.

“ _ Je t’amie,  _ you ridiculous man,” she said, and then she yanked him onto the bed, and he went, eagerly. This room wasn’t as large or as nice as the one they’d shared, the one he lived in alone now, but there was plenty of room, really, and he wasn’t exactly going to call for a pause so they could move to a better location. He wanted her too badly to bother with silly things like  _ location;  _ he would have her wherever she was willing to have him.

He peeled off his gloves and tossed them to the side, and then started in on unbuttoning her blouse, while she unzipped his jacket and then tossed it off. Once he had her blouse off, it revealed a delicate white bra, half the cup solid and the other half nothing but graceful lace, almost angelic against her periwinkle skin. 

“Damn,” Jack breathed. He knew he hadn’t seen this particular piece of lingerie before - he had developed a fairly good memory for the things Amélie wore, if only because of what they tended to do to him.   


“I could say the same,” Amélie said, hands tracing over his bare chest. “Your taste in fashion may leave much to be desired, but I  _ am  _ at least lucky enough to have a soulmate with the body of...what is the phrasing? Adonis, I think.”

He knew damned well that she knew exactly what she was saying; it was flattering either way.

“I’m glad to hear you still think so,” he said, and then he leaned down to kiss her again, hands fumbling with the clasp for her skirt while she easily and expertly divested him of his belt and then of his pants. With both of them down to their underwear, he sat back to take a long, appreciative look - her panties were the same angelic, delicate white as the bra, though they were made entirely out of lace. “Damn,” he breathed, and he reached down, carefully divesting her of the slinky piece, and then dropping them onto the floor.

He reached between her legs, teasing at her entrance, stroking her until he could feel her get wet under his fingers. She let out a tiny, gasping moan, and arched into him, and he leaned in to kiss her. It had been too long since they’d had this, and he was looking forward to taking her apart.

He reached down and undid his belt, tossing it aside, and then she yanked off his pants, and he wiggled out of his boxers. The entire time, she was leaning up to catch his lips in brief kisses, like she couldn’t get enough of him. That sent a thrill through him; it was good to be reminded of exactly how much she always seemed to  _ want him,  _ no matter what else was going on. 

It had been almost physically agonizing, being without her for so long, and when he slid into her, feeling her squeeze around him, it reminded him exactly how much he had ached for her.

“I missed you so much,” he said, unashamed. If he had to tell her that he loved her and that she was the only woman in the world for him a hundred, a thousand times to make her believe it again after what he’d done, he would do it. Whatever it took to make her understand that she was all he’d ever needed and all he  _ would  _ ever need, no matter what he did in some idiotic moment of weakness.

“I missed you, as well,” Amélie confessed, and she leaned up, kissing him long and slow as he began to move, a languid, easy pace at first. Her hips rolled to meet his thrusts, and he moaned against her lips, slowly beginning to pick it up. “ _ Je t'aime,”  _ she sighed, “no matter how angry you make me,  _ je t'aime.” _

“ _ Je t'aime aussie,” _  Jack said, and she smiled. His French was noticeably better; it ought to be, when he spoke it to her as much as he could. She always seemed to enjoy it, and he figured he could damned well make the effort to learn his soulmate’s language. 

He reached between them, stroking her clit and rolling it between his fingers, and he watched as she threw her head back, back arching and hips bucking into him. 

“Ah,  _ yes, _ ” she gasped, “more,  _ s'il vous plaît.”  _ God, he loved hearing her plead in French. He loved hearing her plead in general, but the way her voice formed around her native tongue always sent a thrill up his spine. It felt even better now, after so long apart, and he wanted nothing more than to show her exactly what she meant to him. His thrusts picked up speed, and she moved her legs up to wrap them around his hips, moving back against him eagerly. Her hands went up to run through his hair, and then gently twisted in it, tugging briefly. 

“I like the blond,” she admitted. “The white looked, mm... _ sophisticated,  _ but you are young still, and the blond fits you better.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” Jack sai. He’d done it for himself, but, hell, if she liked it, he’d  _ definitely  _ keep it. She pulled him down into a kiss, and that was the end of discussion, about his hair or about anything else, because he was far too distracted fucking her into the mattress and she was a very thorough, very creative kisser.

It felt like their first time all over again, electric and powerful, like they were reaffirming their bond after it had been stretched and strained nearly to the breaking point. Like the universe was reminding them that no matter what happened, they were meant for each other.

His free hand moved to stroke over her breast, still covered by her lacy little bra - he hadn’t bothered taking ti off and didn’t intend to, because having her still partially clothed under him  _ did things  _ to him. She hadn’t bothered to toss it aside either, so obviously it wasn’t bothering her.

She moaned against his lips and squeezed her thighs around his waist, and then he felt her clench down around him as she came, and that was enough to pull him over with her. Their bodies were in a tight sync, like they hadn’t been apart for any time at all, and when he came it was with an intense, white-out sort of pleasure that left him strung out and breathless. He was trembling head to toe, and when she pulled away from his lips and he slid out of her, he collapsed on the bed, more exhausted than he’d ever thought to be.

She curled up against him, tucking in against his chest, and he marvelled, not for the first time, at how well they fit together.

“You know,” he said, idly twisting a piece of her hair around a finger, “I know we’ve never talked about it, but...I think I’d like to marry you. If being Amélie Morrison doesn’t sound too terrible.” She blinked, still a little hazy from the afterglow, and then she lifted her head up and regarded him with slightly wide eyes.

“Are you...certain?” She asked, like she couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yes,” he said, leaning in to kiss her briefly. “We’ve waited too long, and I don’t want to wait any longer. There’s nobody else I want to spend my life with, we might as well make it official.”

“Then yes,” Amélie said, “I will marry you.”


End file.
